


We Have Everything

by wolver



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolver/pseuds/wolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul regarded him for a moment before his eyes dropped to his lap, and he murmured, "it's not bullshit that I'm having a bad season, Jimmy."<br/>Or the one where James hates seeing his best friend so down and wants to fix it. Also, porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Have Everything

“Paulie?”

The word was only a minor ripple in the continuing silence, brief and quickly forgotten, and not even James’ hoarse voice drew Paul’s attention away from the window, from the buildings shrouded in a thick darkness and the still of night that wasn’t very different from the air they shared inside the car - whether Paul hadn’t heard or that he was stooping down to ignore James was yet to be determined. Neither really reassured James. There was something wrong, something off, and he wasn’t sure what it was. Ever since they had left the subdued locker room Paul had spoken nary a word, bobbed his head possibly once or twice, and seemed content enough staring at his dress shoes that occasionally squeaked on the hard floors.

During the drive James resisted glancing over every other second just to make sure that Paul was still there.

This silence was driving James up the wall, not an easy task when one was in a car, and he had to check himself from begging to know what was going on. He was still thrumming with adrenaline from the game; his fingers itched to tap and twitch, plus there was a strong urge to vent all over the place, but he held back and instead thought about their next win and the different energy he’d possess then.

It wasn’t as good, though. The team was hitting a few minor rough spots in the road and Paul appeared to be struggling with his own - of course James had a vague idea what was wrong, really; he knew the shit that the defenseman got about his play, way more than James thought even his enemies on ice deserved, but that was the way things went sometimes and it wasn’t always the easiest pill to swallow. He’d glad go beat up all the haters if he thought it’d do any good whatsoever - but he was much more hesitant about trying to pry into Paul’s thought process.

He wasn’t sure if Paul would appreciate him trying to help or if he’d just find it to be a huge bother, what, with trying to corral his thoughts and an annoying meddling James on the side who probably tended to be worse than a kid sometimes. The last thing he wanted was for Paul to shut him out and any other time the notion of Paul doing such a thing was completely inconceivable - why would Paul ever feel the need to hide something from him? - but it was moments like these where James felt the urge to shift nervously in his seat. Still, though, his fingers itched to do something and he felt a pressing urge to fix everything, anything, in any way that he could.

Just to stop Paul from looking so down.

“Hey,” James started when he parked outside his house, and continued quick in fear of another awkward moment, “do you want some company tonight?” His fingers toyed with his keys; the sounds of metal clinking and his quiet breathing was all that James could hear - the street dotted with occasional porch lights and streetlights, motionless.

It was impossible to read Paul’s face - the way that he was still partially turned away and the folds of dark that settled around them, hugging their forms close enough that the faint light from the porch was far from adequate to chase it away, and all James could do was wait because he didn’t know what else to do. He sat there and wondered if sending good vibes towards Paul would do any good.

“It’s been a long day,” Paul eventually said.

“Yeah,” James agreed; it had been, but the game was over and now it was time to put it behind them. “But do you want any company? We could watch that zombie show and pretend the zombies are the Isles. Whaddaya say?”

“I’d be a bore,” he said, then relented with a glance at James, “but, yeah. Okay.”

“You’re always a bore, aye,” James replied with a smile and an edge of fondness crept in that he couldn’t entirely suppress, “lemme change and I’ll be over.”

It was a start, and an opening that James was going to take because simply: if Paul wanted him around then there was nowhere else that James felt the desire to be; it had always kind of been that way with them, where James ended up next to Paul’s side more often than not (a good deal unconsciously, too) and yeah, there were jokes about being glued together and whatnot, but that was inconsequential and commonplace - it was where he was content and like hell he was going to let Paul pull away now, not after the friendship they built.

 

 

“Don’t let them get to you,” James blurted out before he could stop himself.

“What? The vampires?” Paul asked, confused. “They don’t really exist, you know. Twilight is just a movie.”

“No,” James made a face. “I don’t mean the fucking vampires. I mean,” he vaguely waved his hand around, trying to gesticulate what he really meant - not the vampires, but the haters, the critics that knew shit-all about Paul’s playing and how important he was to the team - and he was pretty sure he was doing a poor job at expressing what he really wanted to say; he cringed a bit, and tried to tuck his feet further under Paul’s thigh. He was sitting there on the couch beside Paul - in his default position against the armrest with his feet burrowed underneath the man’s thigh because they were always fucking cold, damnit - and admittedly he was watching the defenseman more than the stupid movie.

Creepy, yeah, he was totally was.

But apparently Paul _did_ know - with the way that he could read James better than James could probably read himself, even if it only consisted of him flapping about his hand like a moron - because the next second his face closed off a tiny bit (too much) and he looked away, appearing tense again, appearing all the things that James was trying to fix; whatever ease that James had managed to build was instantly destroyed, and he regretted bringing the subject up and wished that he possessed a tad more tact.

James frowned and wiggled his toes underneath Paul’s thigh, trying to salvage the moment, “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset. I’ll let your vampire beat the shit outta mine.”

It was a long moment, one that James spent more or less holding his breath, before Paul turned to look back towards him.

“Your vampire never had a chance in hell,” Paul murmured before there was a pause, where he looked away and James stared at the line of his throat, the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and he had to blink a few times when Paul looked back towards him, continuing, “I’m sorry. You took me off guard, but I guess I should have known it was coming by the way you keep staring at me.”

Right. So he had noticed, and James felt his face heat up, but he soldiered on like a good trooper because this was important, “don’t apologize. Seriously man, I shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place.”

Paul shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “I don’t mind. I’m just a bit touchy about it right now.”

“You have every right to be,” James shrugged. “I don’t blame you. I just, I guess I’m trying to say that I’m here, Paulie. If you need to talk. Or want to. And I hope that you know it’s all bullshit. That’s all.”

Paul regarded him for a moment before his eyes dropped to his lap, and he murmured, “it’s not bullshit that I’m having a bad season, Jimmy.” His hand reached down beside his thigh and loosely curled around James’ ankle, thumb idly rubbing at the sharp bone as he held on; James tried to bury his toes further under Paul’s thigh because if Paul needed an anchor right now then he sure as shit was going to have one.

“I don’t think it’s as bad as what people make it out to be. Anyway, so what? Even the best players have their slumps. Even I sucked once, way back when, and you know I’m untouchable.”

That drew a sharp, short laugh from Paul, who eyed him with his usual you’re-so-full-of-shit and why-do-I-put-up-with-you looks and those were a million times better than Paul staring off into space as if he wasn’t all there. James smiled, and it only grew wider when Paul replied, “I’m going to tell Geno you said he sucked.”

“I did not!” He protested with a laugh. “Oh God, don’t sic the angry Russian after me.”

Paul merely shrugged with a small smile on his lips.

It was doing things to James, seeing Paul responding to some stupid quip that James had made like it was the funniest thing in the world - and the way he laughed with his head tipped back ever so slightly caused something to settle in James, something content and warm and _happy_ that had been missing from his gut while Paul had been out of it, and he finally figured out what he wanted-

and what he really wanted was to kiss him.

So James did so without thinking; he reached up and lightly brushed his knuckles along the curve of Paul’s jaw, gently guiding his face towards his own before he leaned forward to capture his lips in a kiss. Not until the other man made a quiet noise of surprise, not until he was kissing back did James actually realize what he’d done and what he was currently in the middle of. He’d kissed his teammate. His best friend.

But Paul was kissing him back as though they did this all the time and there was nothing strange going on, so James simply let it happen, soaking up the feeling and nibbling happily at Paul’s lower lip, and it was too soon before air was becoming an issue; and now Paul was giving him a look, part curious and part judgey, waiting because of course he’d be the one to follow the logic that if James kissed him first then he’d also be the first to speak.

“I don’t actually do this with all my teammates,” James felt the need to explain, because Paul kept staring at him and it was honestly a bit unnerving - though it seemed to do little to deter his dick from taking an interest - and how stupid was that comment, anyway?

“Is that so,” Paul replied and James’ gut tightened because he couldn’t read his tone or his look.

He was starting to worry that he had caused some irreparable damage but if Paul hadn’t wanted it then why did he kiss him back and why was he still sitting here, looking like he was patiently waiting for something from James and- and James found himself staring at the man’s lips, at the way they purse and twitch ever so slightly - they were a faint shade of red, a shade darker than usual and James wasn’t even sure how he knew that, but it was distracting and he wanted to kiss him again, feel the burn of stubble against his own, and _wait_ , James narrowed his eyes suddenly because he knew this look.

Paul was _laughing_ at him.

“You are the absolute worst person on the entire planet.”

“If I agree will you kiss me again? Or go find another teammate to smooch on?”

James groaned and sank back into the couch, tipping his head back as Paul grinned at him - he just knew he was going to get teased about this forever and probably rightly so because that was a stupid as _fuck_ thing to say; he secretly snuck glances at the man from the corner of his eye because that grin was seriously doing things for him tonight, if the whole kissing him thing hadn’t been obvious enough. Now that he knew he hadn’t ruined their friendship with a single impulsive act James focused on the arousal simmering low in his gut, the electricity that charged his veins, and he thrummed with energy.

“I might,” he managed to keep his voice even, clearing his throat, but he knew the want was still thick in his voice, “I’ll find someone who won’t laugh at me and hurt my ego.”

Paul narrowed his eyes and gave him this look, and this one James couldn’t exactly read because there was no laughter in his eyes, instead it was something more along the lines like- a grin slowly spread across James’ face; Paul was jealous and how awesome was that? Then it dawned on him that this wasn’t the first time he’d seen this look, and there were so many implications hightailing around in his brain that he took it for a positive thing that he only wanted to kiss Paul more than do something like run away or brush it all back under the rug.

Taking it as an unspoken invitation, James shifted until they were sitting side by side, thighs pressed together, and he cupped his cheek and kissed him again.

Paul huffed softly, but he still smiled against James’ mouth and mumbled, “I think your ego is doing just fine.”

Then, before James could formulate any response, there was a hand cupping his half-hard dick through his sweatpants and James’ hips instinctively jerked up; and James half-wondered what the touch would feel like on his dick without the barrier between, his hand large and warm, rough from sport - how awesome that would be, but for now he was more distracted with the kissing. At the way Paul’s lips parted to let him in, to deepen the kiss, and then there were those sounds he was making, soft desperate noises in the back of throat as everything became less controlled and more enthusiastic, wild, and oh so deliciously messy.

James shoved Paul backwards on the couch, easily toppling with him as their position shifted horizontally, and he ended up half on top of him with his knee wormed between two strong thighs, which, Paul seemed pleased with judging by the way his hips rolled up against the firm pressure. He broke the kiss and turned his head towards the side to pant quietly, and James was captivated by the flush coloring his cheeks, the way it was spreading lower and disappeared beneath his shirt collar. Leaning back down, James trailed kisses down his jaw then to the long column of his neck.

“Since when?” James murmured in between touches of his lips against skin.

“Since, I’unno, forever, I guess?” Paul’s hand cupped the back of James’ neck as he squirmed a little underneath him, solid and warm, grounding him into the here and now until everything else faded away but the two of them. “More since when we watched your NHL36 and you embarrassed yourself in front of cameras by pulling on your button up wrong and just in general being kind of adorable and retarded.”

“Hey,” James laughed into his neck and playfully bit a spot, making Paul hiss out a low breath. He rather enjoyed the sound of that and continued to nip along the warm skin in search of new reactions.

“Since when you stayed with me and I found out you were completely incapable of taking care of yourself.”

“I can take care of myself!” James argued then dipped his head down and once he tugged Paul’s shirt collar down with his fingers he nipped at the prominent bone and smiled, pleased, when the older man squirmed some more.

“Yeah, Jimmy. What, with your empty fridge, empty house, the grocery trips I have to tag along on because you never remember anything essential, and even then I have to pick up laundry detergent later since you don’t even know what kind to use. Do you even know how to use the washer?”

“Which one’s the washer again? The hot one?” James played dumb; he played along with the teasing since he couldn’t be bothered to care, not with his mouth attached to Paul’s salty warm skin and the hard on that was snugged up against his thigh through only two thin layers of sweatpants.

Speaking of, James pulled back to see Paul’s face as he pressed his thigh down a little firmer, which, immediately put an end to the teasing; Paul’s thoughts were obviously derailed as his hips unconsciously rolled upwards and James was fascinated with the way his eyes fluttered shut, the way his jaw slackened and his breath hitched in his throat - god, he wanted to touch him all over, and James realized with a jolt that he _could_.

James dipped back down, latching his mouth back onto Paul’s neck and he sucked a bruise into the skin as his fingertips teased the strip of skin below the hemline of Paul’s shirt before sliding his hand in underneath his shirt to touch his belly. Fingers danced along, mapping out the warm smooth skin, and he greedily drank in every hitch of Paul’s breath, every sound, every jerk of his hips like a starved man offered an all-you-can-eat, and he had no idea where to begin.

First things first, though, James slid his hand up further underneath his shirt to explore and possibly see if Paul liked his nipples touched (he did, if that shudder indicated anything); Paul’s own hands had been gripping James’ biceps as if he was the one that needed grounded here, and James smirked because he liked the thought of that a lot - the thought of driving the other man crazy - and god, he’d never been so turned on before by simply touching someone else and watching the way they reacted.

Then Paul stiffened, gritted out, “stop _moving_ ,” and James immediately froze - the way that Paul was holding his body, tense, his breathing labored and strained, oh god, did he do something wrong, was he going too far-

“What’s wrong? Are you- Did I-?”

Paul’s eyes slowly opened and he directed a glassy look in James’ direction, blinking hard a few times; he nodded and replied in a rough voice, “trying not to come in my pants.”

“Jesus,” James gasped out - he had to snake a hand down to squeeze his ignored dick that throbbed sharply at the idea of Paul already that close and desperate with a need to come; there was a high chance that he was on the verge of creaming his own pants like he was fifteen again as well. “That’s fucking hot.”

“Ugh, that was so not hot,” Paul murmured and he reached up to rub over his face, then when he lifted his hand he focused a shaky grin on James, “You know what would be hot, though? Us taking this into the bedroom, yeah?”

That was the best idea that James had heard all night.

 

How they managed to make it to the bedroom in one piece James did not know, and also he was pretty sure they broke a lamp and also possibly some weird vase that Paul got from who-knows-where. The latter part was irrelevant, anyway, because there was no way they were covering that amount of ground without their lips locked and bodies touching in some fashion - and judging by the way that Paul only laughed against his mouth when something broke James assumed it wasn’t an issue.

Then he instantly forgot everything that had nothing to do with the body that was pinning him to the bed. James shifted some underneath, enjoying the way Paul’s weight had him pressed down into the mattress and James spread his legs allowing him to settle in the vee of his thighs - their hips lined up just right and Paul’s mouth was on his again, biting and sucking his bottom lip as their bodies rocked together.

One of Paul’s hands moved to the curve of James’ ass and kneaded the muscle there, drawing a quiet groan from James that grew louder when his fingers shifted over, hesitantly pressing in right against the seam. It took James off guard and he tore away from the kiss with a hitching breath; unexpected, yeah, but he was definitely into it and already he desperately wanted more.

“Oh god, don’t tease.” James tried not to sound like he was begging, but his voice was strained and the words came out more like a whine than anything else - slightly embarrassing because Paul just looking so fucking composed right now and here James was, almost a total wreck, but Paul seemed into it, watching him with hooded eyes and these shiny lips that distracted James probably more than they should have, until he was yanking him back in for another kiss.

“What do you want, Jimmy?” Paul mumbled into his mouth.

“You, come on.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

James groaned at the way the words shot a spike of heat down his spine and pooled low in his belly, and he nodded eagerly, his hands fumbling for a grasp of Paul’s shirt. It took some fumbling and shifting about, but they were naked in record time and James was shamelessly eyeing Paul’s body as he stretched to grab the condom and lube from the nightstand by the bed. Then Paul was kneeling between his spread thighs again, clearly taking his own moment to enjoy the sight of James stretched out in front of him.

“So hot,” he murmured in a tone that James strained to hear, and he felt ridiculously pleased as Paul kissed the inside of his knee; in a louder voice he asked, “Have you done this before?”

“Once,” he admitted.

“If you’d feel more comfortable-”

“No, no,” James interrupted, “I want this. Do it.”

With slick fingers he carefully stretched James until he was squirming on the bed, grinding his hips down and begging for more - basically throwing James’ composure straight to hell and then some; then finally he rolled on the condom and lined up, sinking inch by glorious inch until his hips were snug against James’ ass. The burn was the only thing that was keeping him grounded, keeping him from losing it from how intense everything felt, and he gripped Paul’s biceps tightly, holding on.

“Jesus fuck,” James managed, and was nudged into a kiss, one that ended up being less kissing and more panting into the other’s mouth, while Paul kept still to let his muscles adjust. Despite the burn, James couldn’t help squirming, rolling his hips down in tiny circles and finally, when the burn was easing and there was more pleasure than pain, he encouraged, “yeah, come on, do it - fuck me,” to which Paul eagerly responded; he eased out before thrusting back in with a hard snap of the hips and James moaned because Jesus, that felt fucking fantastic.

Paul leaned his weight forward, propped up on his elbows planted on either side of James’ head, and James hooked his arms around Paul’s back to grab his shoulders and hold on tight; his entire body was thrumming with pent up energy and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer - not like this, with Paul’s hips snapping quick and rough and so fucking good, and he zeroed in on the spot that made James’ entire body jerk, taut as a bow.

“Jimmy,” Paul panted as he nosed along his jaw, “Jimmy, you close?”

There was a small shift above him before a hand curled around his dick that made James whine in this really embarrassingly needy sound and he nodded in short, jerky movements. James turned his head and pressed his cheek against the pillow, trying to fight back the haze to focus on Paul for a moment - from the way their bodies connected to the rough hand jerking him off to the panting in his ear and it was just, it was way too much. A pleasure overload.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” he gasped as his body started to lock up with the telltale signs; James then moaned loudly and tipped his head back, his back arching as he spilled between them, all the while Paul was murmuring dirty encouragements in his ear. “Come on, Paulie,” James whispered in return and ran a hand down Paul’s back, “come for me.”

It seemed to do the trick for Paul because a few thrusts later he was shuddering through his own orgasm with a low groan and as his hips came to a stop, he dropped his head against James’ shoulder and panted hard. James rubbed his hand along Paul’s back over and over until the man finally pulled away and carefully eased out, drawing a quiet sound from James.

“Sorry,” Paul murmured and leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. Then with energy that James was totally jealous of, he got up and discarded the condom before collapsing back on the bed again; he immediately tugged James closer, and with the small amount of energy that remained James managed to roll over and draped himself halfway across Paul’s chest, face buried in his shoulder.

“Was that as good for me as it was for you?”

Paul snorted, “I fucking hope so.” His fingers idly carded through James’ hair and added after a few beats of shared silence, “you’d go to great lengths to make me feel better, huh?”

Blinking at the sudden subject change, and serious subject change at that, it took James a minute to wrap his mind around the comment, and then he lifted his head to look at him.

“Uh,” he said, eloquent as usual after sex; James made a face and cleared his throat, trying again, “that wasn’t actually on the to-do list.”

“To-do list?” Paul lifted his eyebrows.

“Sort of?”

“So that was...”

James gave him a small look. “I just said it wasn’t.”

It was easy to pick up on the signs that Paul was growing uncomfortable, and James wasn’t sure if it was something that he said or maybe even he was starting to regret what happened - that left an ugly feeling in his chest, dark and constricting and unpleasant - and if Paul regretted this it was all James’ fault. He watched as Paul looked away and stayed quiet, and James seriously hoped that he hadn’t fucked everything up - then well, he was going to have to fix it if so.

Slowly, he pushed himself up until he was sitting at Paul’s side, Paul shooting him a confused look, and James took a second to work out what he wanted to say. It wouldn’t do to explode this into something it wasn’t, not until he knew the other side of the story.

“I _really_ hope you’re not thinking that I slept with you to simply make you feel better.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not like that,” Paul said, slowly shaking his head, “I’m not implying that you’d stoop to doing something like that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Look. I just like you, can we leave it at that? Before one of us ends up saying something stupid.”

It wasn’t as convincing as Paul probably aimed it to be, but James allowed himself to be tugged back down, and he hovered, just looking for a moment, before he leaned down to seal their mouths together in a hopefully reassuring kiss.

James pulled away to say, “if you think I don’t like you, too, then you’re a moron,” and he eased the sting with a kiss to the side of his jaw then slid down and rested his head down on Paul’s shoulder again, an arm thrown across his chest; his fingers danced along warm skin and he continued, “I don’t really know how to put it into words. We’re great together, that much is obvious, and yeah, it’s probably taken me far too long to realize that we could be great in other ways. Why not be more? Why not be amazing, eh?”

“More, huh?” Paul murmured.

“Yep. Like more glitter on my vampire.”

It drew a low chuckle from Paul, probably an eye roll as well, and he relented, “alright, as long as you don’t run up trees with me.”

James suddenly grinned, sharp and wide, “who needs trees when I can climb you all day long?”

 

The smell of coffee drew James out of bed, and he fumbled into a pair of sweatpants before he shuffled out to the kitchen; he was still somewhat asleep and in zombie mode, and James sat down at the bar, dropping his head down on his folded arms with a tired groan because it was way too early to be up, let alone functioning with any intelligence.

“Oh, good morning to you, too,” Paul greeted, sounding amused and fond and way too awake.

James just grunted and demanded, “coffee.”

“Yessir. Right away, sir.” And James didn’t need to look up to know that Paul was saluting him in an obnoxious way.

Then there was a steaming mug sat in front of him and James attempted to inhale the hot liquid as quickly as he could without scalding his tongue; while he slowly shed the haze between being asleep and being awake, James sat there and quietly watched as Paul moved around in the kitchen making breakfast. This was a routine they had already settled in, it didn’t matter whether James had spent the night or jogged across the street in the morning he always tended to be around for breakfast, and it almost felt like just another day.

But it wasn’t.

There was something else in the air; an electric charge connected the two of them and despite being five feet apart James could still feel the warmth of Paul’s skin against his own - even so, he couldn’t even look at Paul without remembering the night before: not only the sex, but afterwards, being close in a way that James had never shared with anyone previously, and he realized this was exactly what he wanted. To be able to sit here day after day, with the memory of the night before fresh in his head, and to just be happy like he was right now, barely unable to keep himself from smiling like a moron.

With a sudden need to just touch the man James then said, “c’mere,” with a jerk of his head and sat down his mug - when Paul was close enough, he fisted a hand in his shirt and yanked him to stand between his thighs. “Hi,” he added with a smile, his hands sneaking to grip Paul’s hips.

“Hey,” Paul murmured, sliding his arms around James’ neck; the easy way that Paul had smiled back caused a wave of warmth to crash over his insides and all James could do was hold the man close and kiss him breathless.


End file.
